


Epiphany

by may_tricks



Category: Desperate Housewives
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vignette, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/may_tricks/pseuds/may_tricks
Summary: Christmas in twelve parts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Desperate Housewives.
> 
> Spoilers: Canon divergent. Timeline shifts from pre-series to mid-series, also taking place during the 5 year jump.

**2003**

Three and half glasses of rum spiked eggnog into the annual winter time festivities has Lynette feeling the familiar flood of warmth so often accompanied with the season and, of course, alcohol. At the moment she’s wedged between Mary-Alice and Susan, the latter of whom has been rambling for the last five minutes about something that Mary-Alice has patiently been nodding along to. Mostly amused by her even more drunk friend, Lynette nudges Mary-Alice when Susan lets out another peel of laughter at her own story.

Mary-Alice smiles back in the way Lynette has only known Mary-Alice to do: soft, quiet, sure, secretive. She thinks for a moment, trying to pin down just the right word to describe this look, a calmness that comes with a touch of knowing.

_Intimate._

She smiles back, equal parts sympathetic and self-satisfied. Excusing herself to the bathroom, Lynette lifts herself off of the Young’s couch and makes her way to the powder room. It turns out to be a bit of an ambitious effort though as Lynette finds the house is bustling with movement; children are crawling under tables and weaving around adults, neighbours are laughing loudly over obnoxious Christmas songs reverberating out of the radio, and there's the sequential flash of multi-coloured holiday lights shimmering throughout the house.

Once she’s finally reached her destination, Lynette discovers she's been thwarted by a firmly shut bathroom door.

“Occupied!” A voice chimes from the other side and Lynette tries shifting her weight as though that will somehow dissipate how very badly she needs to pee.

That half glass of eggnog sits in her bladder uncomfortably and yes, maybe she should have gone before getting a refill but she honestly believed she had better self-control than this. Saved from any further introspection, Lynette is relieved to see the doorknob jiggling.

“Lynette, hi! I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Maybe it’s the rum, which has always been a worthy adversary against Lynette, but she feels her skin tingle and her limbs loosen, shoulders rolling as if to say _it’s no problem at all._

Then—and she will blame this on the rum—Lynette reaches out to tug on the sleeve of Bree’s dress.

“I like this colour on you,” she announces, her smile wide.

The top half of the dress is an eye-catching opaque green with sheer sleeves, while the skirt is a pristine white A-line that skims just above Bree’s knees. Her heels keep her taller than Lynette, if only by a few inches, but it seems to make all the difference.

“You think so?” Bree wonders, touching her own hair, laying it against the green material of her dress in stark contrast. “Gabrielle seemed to think it was a bit _obvious_ , I believe was the word she used.”

“That’s really what she said?” Lynette teases.

Gabrielle says lots of things; often and openly. One word answers, however, were rather uncharacteristic. Conceding, Bree smiles and shakes her head. She’s about to step out of the way of the now unoccupied bathroom when she hears Karl Mayer, who’s nursing a glass of scotch, saying something about mistletoe.

With the aid of Lynette’s index finger pointing upward, spiralling around the general vicinity of where a sprig of mistletoe is strategically pinned above the bathroom door-frame, Bree is able to figure out what all the fuss is about. Before she has the chance to shut down the eager calls of _“it’s tradition”_ and _“just a peck!”_ Bree feels that same tug on her sleeve from earlier, turns her attention to Lynette, who is looking at her with glassy green eyes and her trademark smirk that makes Bree want to do anything to keep seeing it.

The corner of Bree’s mouth matches the rim of Lynette’s glass; a smear of red lipstick. Lynette thinks she looks a bit glamorous suddenly with that splash of colour disturbing the orderliness Bree has in aces. It makes Lynette a little proud and has her smiling as she sashays around Bree on her way inside the bathroom.

 

* * *

**2004**

After the Zach Young B&E debacle, Wisteria Lane has had something of a wrench thrown into its holiday spirit. However, the neighbourhood is nothing if not resilient.

With the big day only a week away, excitement for Christmas is in full swing. Susan has been humming Christmas carols since the first of December, Carlos and Gabby have poured God knows how much into yet another lavish early present, Lynette is making not so thinly veiled threats to her children about getting in touch with Santa’s workshop, and Bree is trying to milk at least one more Christmas out of her family as cohesive unit.

That said, Bree fully intends to treat this Christmas just like any other.

She’s making her rounds of holiday care packages—complete with chocolates, baked goods, and the Van de Kamp family Christmas card—when she reaches the Scavo house and rings the bell.

Lynette answers with a corkscrew in one hand and an unopened bottle of wine in the other.

“Hey Bree, wanna get plastered?”

Moments later they’re both seated firmly on the floor with their backs to the couch. After filling up two glasses, Lynette holds her up in a mock toast and the women clink their glasses together. Bree swallows some of her wine and Lynette tries not to spend too much time focusing on how good the gesture looks.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing special. I just did the whole Christmas phone call rigmarole with my mother and sisters. Honestly, more people need to write Christmas cards. _Super_ underrated.”

“So we’re celebrating?”

“Celebrating what?”

“Your survival in the face of certain death; obligatory familial niceties.”

Lynette’s snort laughs and drains the rest of her glass before refilling it. “I figured that sorta thing was your specialty.”

“Oh, I adore my family.” Bree assures, but smirks after Lynette’s raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Just after a couple glasses of wine.”

“I knew there was a reason we’re best friends,” Lynette jokes.

Within the hour they’ve polished off the bottle.

 

* * *

 

**2005**

It’s the first Christmas since Rex passed and Lynette feels the difference when she comes in the Van de Kamp’s front door.

The whole house is decked out for the holidays, looking a little too much like a department store display, but Lynette can’t help but feel charmed by it anyway. She passes through the living room because Bree didn’t hear her knock and so she's allowed herself in and now has the chance to wander freely. The tree is real and decorated to the nines, an old-fashioned train chugs slowly around the base, and a snowy winter village dominates the top of the nearby fireplace. Resting her hand on the mantle, Lynette feels a sense of unease come over her, although she can’t quite place it.

“There’s one missing.”

Lynette startles, her spine going ramrod straight after the initial stun, as she turns to face Bree.

“Usually there are four stockings but this year it’s just me and the children,” she offers by way of explanation.

Sorrow lumps in the pit of Lynette’s stomach like a peach pit. She can imagine how difficult enduring a season dedicated to spending time with family must be on a recent widow and her children. Her heart wrenches at the sight of her friend so desperately trying to cling to her last ounce of composure, the same woman who Lynette once held up as the epitome of a dreamy 1950's archetype; the picture of perfection. Where Bree had once seemed so impenetrable, Lynette now knows otherwise: thick skin, soft centre.

Then, with an impressive lack of forethought, Lynette opens her mouth and starts talking.

“My dad died a few months before Christmas but my mom already bought him one of his gifts. It was this really nice gold watch with their wedding anniversary engraved on the back. I was too young to really remember him but I _do_ remember my mom opening it on Christmas morning and wearing that watch for years after.”

“What happened to it?”

Lynette shrugs nonchalantly, “Someone broke into our house when I was like ten and stole it.”

“That’s awful; I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah well it was a while ago. Really, I just wanted to let you know that the firsts are always hard. After the first year it still sucks but at least it’s not as fresh.”

Bree can appreciate the probable truth of that, but more importantly the sentiment. She joins Lynette at the mantle but doesn’t regard her, just watches the figurines in her miniature winter town. The painted faces and cute little Christmas touches give Bree some of peace of mind. Reaching over to a switch on the back of one of the buildings, she lights up the whole set.

Not for the first time, Lynette feels at a loss for words. Her hand comes to rest in the space between Bree’s shoulder blades, rubbing circles into the material of her sweater.

 

* * *

**  
2006**

Aware that this may very well be the last Christmas that her children actually believe that Santa Clause is real, and thus the last year that they’ll actually obey orders for fear of being fated to the naughty list, Lynette has taken it upon herself to make sure that the children get to see the big guy in question.

This mission, however, is not so easily undertaken. As with most things, Lynette finds the important things never are.

Lynette Scavo is no fool; she is entirely aware that her children, whose powers should be harnessed as a source of renewable energy, are absolutely batshit on a regular basis. Thus, adding the sensory overload of a crowded mall during the peak of holiday shopping season is only asking for trouble. With this in mind, Lynette knows what she has to do, which is how she finds Bree Van de Kamp riding shotgun as they debate over available parking spaces one late Saturday morning.

Corralling four little Scavos proves to be a worthy challenge, but Bree and Lynette somehow manage it. By the time they’re in line for Santa, Lynette is sure that Bree is deeply regretting her decision to keep her company.

“It’s not too late to make a break for the exit,” Lynette jokes.

“And miss all the excitement?” Bree teases with a smile that reminds Lynette that this woman isn’t as always as cool and detached as she seems. “I haven’t visited Santa since Andrew and Danielle were this age."

“Why not?” Parker prompts, his tiny hand holding on to Bree’s.

“Pardon, dear?”

“Why don’t you see Santa anymore?”

She looks down at big, curious eyes with a crinkle in the brow that makes her heart warm. Even though her children both know the truth about Santa Clause, Bree's immediate response around anyone under the age of thirteen is to keep the illusion alive. 

“Oh that’s just because I have Santa’s email so we just talk on the computer. He’s so busy that it’s hard to see him all the time, but it’s nice to visit sometimes.”

“You have Santa’s email?” Preston, who is wide eyed in amazement by this information. Bree bends at the knee so that she’s at his height then a sneaky smile transforms her whole expression.

“Of course I do. How else do you think he knows what you’re doing all the time? He has spies _everywhere._ ”

“You’re not a spy,” Porter accuses, but then doubt averts his gaze to his mother. “She’s not a spy, is she?"

Lynette pulls a face that makes it look like she's trying to shake off her children's questions. The humor shining in her eyes is missed by the boys but Bree manages to catch it.

“Come on boys, you gotta know I’m not at liberty to disclose such sensitive an top secret information like who may or may not work for Santa.”

Having now successfully convinced her children that their neighbour is a dispatched agent of Santa Claus, Lynette thinks she may actually be able to bank on good behaviour for a few months yet.

 

* * *

  **  
2007**

Her only peace of mind between the cancer, her mother and sisters, and the recent natural disaster that devastated their cul-de-sac, are her children and friends. It’s probably not a fantastic indication of her life right now if Christmas shopping is a highlight in her week, but she’s rolling with the punches. Certainly most adults, especially those with children, consider shopping one of the major pitfalls of the season. Yet, while many people hate braving congested malls, hearing repetitious Christmas songs, and narrowly avoiding collisions in overpopulated parking lots, Lynette has a strange appreciation for the whole event.

Sure, it’s loud and busy everywhere she goes, but Lynette is used to that. She also likes searching for just the right thing to get everyone on her list, priding herself on that perfect purchase (hopefully within budget too). Most years she even does the bulk of her shopping alone, tells Tom what she bought once she gets home, then wraps all the children’s gifts to hide away until Christmas Eve. This year, however, Lynette’s found herself with an incomplete stash. She has Tom’s—as well as both their extended families’—stuff hidden in the basement, the children’s presents in the attic, and all the neighbours’ gifts tucked in the back of her closet. While she and Tom normally give out bottles of wine and boxes of chocolate with a small Christmas ornament to the neighbours, Lynette also takes care to get something more personal for the girls.

She’s got Susan and Gabrielle, no problem, but Bree is she’s stuck on.

There’s cooking supplies, of course, but Orson is probably capitalizing on that already. Bath supplies are always easy but that had been last year’s present so she can’t repeat for another few Christmases. Clothes are nice but too tricky, figuring out sizes and materials and patterns and styles. Earlier this weekend, Lynette had passed by a bookstore and briefly entertained the idea of picking up her friend a journal or planner, but for some reason felt that it didn’t feel _enough_. What she picked out for Gabby and Susan feels more personal; it’s only natural that Lynette wants to extended that feeling to Bree also, especially given everything Bree has been going through this past year.

It takes Lynette another week before her prayers are answered. She’s getting ready for bed, first taking off the necklace she’s been wearing all day, and is about to put it back in her jewellery box, when she sees something that she can’t believe she never thought of before.

~

“I thought we’d wait for the girls before we opened gifts.”

“Forget those guys; I can’t wait!” Lynette declares as she pushes the small box across the poker table.

Bree just smiles, shakes her head a little, and picks up the box delicately. She’s carefully removed the bow on the lid and is removing tissue paper while Lynette is waiting on her.

“I think you’re really going to like it.”

And Bree very well might have but the face she was making certainly didn’t indicate that.

“It’s… _lovely.”_ Bree settles on after a delayed pause, her shock shifting into confusion and false joy.

Between the two women, a single shark tooth swings from a thin black strand. The tooth appears somewhat aged but nonetheless white, and Bree tries her level best to keep a smile plastered on her face as she watches Lynette grinning at her like she’s never seen before.

“It’s a shark tooth necklace.”

“That it is,” Bree agrees, the tightness of her voice surely giving her away.

And yet, rather than seeming hurt, Lynette’s expression simply changes. Instead of being excited, her smile now seems gentler, more understanding, and Bree is more confused than ever before, which is pretty impressive given how the past five minutes have played out.

“I know it’s not something you’d pick out for yourself but I want you to have it. I mean, it’s just that once when my mom and stepdad were still together, my family took a summer vacation together. After my dad died we couldn’t always afford to do stuff like that so it was a pretty big deal for me and my sisters once Glen came into the picture. It was a two-day drive to the hotel where we stayed, another two days back, but it was farthest I’d ever been away from home.”

For a moment, something passes over Lynette’s face that stops her mid-sentence, but the moment goes without incident and so she resumes her story, all while Bree holds the shark tooth in the palm of her hand.

“Anyway, on one of the last days of the trip, my stepdad came back to our hotel room with souvenirs he picked up for everyone. He told me that he wrestled a real shark for it and because I was seven years old, I actually believed him. Even now, I think that was the best summer growing up.”

The small tooth presses against Bree’s palm and any confusion or disappointment Bree felt dissipates immediately.

“I can’t accept this, Lynette.”

“Too bad; I already gave it you.”

“It’s too much.”

Lynette just rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he got it for a couple bucks; we stayed in a total tourist trap.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bree replies with a firm tone that does nothing to hide the tenderness she feels.

“I know,” Lynette assures, her voice going soft. “But I still want you to keep it.”

Bree wants to ask why, not because she isn’t honoured, but because it obviously has a strong sentimental meaning to Lynette. She doesn’t though, after all if Lynette wanted to explain then she would. For the time being, Bree simply slips the necklace on and lets Lynette answer the door when they hear Gabby and Susan arriving.

 

* * *

 

**2008**

"We'll have to make an exception this year," Grace Weller, presiding Homeowner's Association president, head of the Neighbourhood Watch, and founder of  _The Jingle Belles,_ announces to the group of women who had convened for the first  _Jingle Belles_ meeting of the season.

Karen McCluskey looks suitably upset about having to compromise but Grace is right:  _Baby, It's Cold Outside_ is a duet that requires a man's contribution.

"Does anyone know any men who would be interested in singing the duet?" Grace asks, opening questions to the floor.

Of twelve different women there isn't a single suggestion.

Grace sighs but scans the crowd, watching many of her friends and neighbours trying to slink out of eye-line, hiding behind the rims of their cups of coffee.

In the middle of the shuffle, she spots one woman pointedly refusing to make eye-contact.

"Lynette!"

There's a collective sigh of relief with a single groan mixed in.

"Grace," Lynette smiles back forcefully, trying not to bare teeth.

"Tom MC'd a show couple years back and I seem to recall him getting into the holiday spirit, singing along. Wouldn't it be lovely for you two to take the duet this year?"

From the look on Grace's face, Lynette figures that the woman really isn't asking.

"Sure," she relents, kicking herself and cursing her friends for not coming to her rescue. "We'd love to."

~

Tom comes down with whatever bug the kids recently had and between fever dreams, informs Lynette that he won't be able to perform in the holiday block party.

Because she's a sympathetic wife, Lynette makes sure Tom is well taken care of.

Because she fears the wrath of an alpha-mom who will most certainly bite Lynette's head off and spit it out when she finds out Tom is bailing, Lynette makes Tom call her.

When he gets off the phone he looks next to death.

"Sorry, hon." Lynette exhales once Tom puts the phone back down on the receiver. "I'm a total coward."

She sends him back to bed with instructions to get some rest - and the promise of sneaking home some baked goods - while she gets the kids ready for the festivities. When she shows up to the area where the choir is set up she finds Grace there, running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Lynette does her best to avoid her but it's inevitable that she face the fury of a middle aged woman decked out in a tacky-on-purpose Christmas sweater.

"Lynette Scavo -"

Gabby and Susan watch in horror - with just a hint of curiosity, like watching a car crash in slow motion - but Bree swoops in at the last moment with a bright smile.

"Grace! I'm so glad I found you," she interrupts. "I heard about Tom and I certainly don't want to cause you any more hassle on such a busy day-"

Grace nods, though her expression remains pinched with frustration.

"I was helping Tom with his choreography and since I already know all the lyrics-"

"You'll step in?" Grace finishes hopefully, the anger dissipating quickly.

In her peripheral vision, Lynette can see Gabby's and Susan's eyebrows go up, obviously equally as surprised.

"Oh thank you, Bree! You're a life-saver, an absolute gem. What you're wearing is great but we do have the hat, jacket, and cane that Tom was going to use. You can still use those, right?"

Without an opportunity to respond, Bree has the costume in question thrust unceremoniously into her arms. Lynette says  _"I'm sorry"_ with her eyes but Bree just smiles with the corner of her mouth and shakes her head. This wasn't Lynette's fault and Bree certainly wasn't going to allow her friend to become the latest victim of Grace's infamous meltdowns.

"Bree's my new favourite," Lynette announces once a new fire for Grace to put out flares up, and she's left behind with Bree, Gabby, and Susan. Bree rolls her eyes in good humour while Susan and Gabby nod in agreement, unashamed of their self-preservation.

~

There's no way the choreo required her to touch Bree  _this much,_ did it?

As Lynette drapes herself over Bree's lap and moves her hand up to her friend's neck, stroking it softly while Bree runs her hands over the material of Lynette's dress, she realizes for the first time how much physical interaction there is in this duet. They started out with her legs over Bree's lap and Bree's touching her knees and thighs, resting her arms, and quickly progressed into her rubbing her palms up and down Bree's arms, feeling  _way_ too close for comfort even with layers between them.

 _"So really I better scurry,"_ Bree croons, following behind her so that Lynette's back neatly lines up with Bree's chest.  _"But maybe just half a drink more."_

With a previously unknown ability to deny all reason, Lynette momentarily convinces herself that she might actually make it out of this number alive, when she finds herself sliding down beside Bree on to the chaise lounge and feels her whole body go up in flames. Thankfully, Bree's next move requires her to abandon her on the chair, providing Lynette an opportunity to compose herself.

To Lynette's surprise they make it through the song without incident, although by the end when Bree dips her then wraps her up in her arms, Lynette thinks she may be on the verge of an orgasm.

She attributes the subsequent thunderous applause to her demonstration of willpower in the face of utter temptation.

 

* * *

 

**2009**

For what is shaping up to be the most bizarre family vacation ever, Bree invites her children, Benjamin, and the Scavo family to celebrate the holidays together in Colorado.

This was Bree's solution to Lynette's concerns about whose house her children would be staying at for Christmas this year. In the wake of divorce, Bree figured that stability and sameness was the endgame, but she reasoned there was nothing wrong with trying something a little different. Apparently this middle ground was to have ten people fly out of state to hang out in the mountains for a week and a half.

It seemed reasonable at the time.

Besides, Tom and Lynette remain amicable. Bree admires their commitment to their children, choosing to remain as genial as possible in their presence, as well as stay on their best behaviour around Bree's own family. She appreciates the effort but ensured that Tom and Lynette weren't exposed to any more awkward moments alone than entirely necessary.

By the time the plane touches down, the strangeness begins to give way to excitement. They make it through the airport each in one piece then load up a couple vans in order to drive out to the timeshare property. The condominium style space is a bit excessive for Lynette's usual taste but her breath is taken away by the view of the mountains from the balcony all the same way.

"Hey mom," Andrew cuts through the noise. "Where's everyone sleeping?"

Upon executive decision by Bree, everyone breaks into smaller groups for the sake of assigning bedrooms. Tom and the Scavo boys in one guestroom, the Van de Kamp children and Benjamin in another, then herself, Lynette, and Penny in the master suite.

She had been working through different combinations during their commute and came to the conclusion that this was the optimal arrangement.

That is, until, she realizes that she has to share a bed with Lynette.

"Which side do you sleep on?" Lynette asks her while she's unpacking her suitcase.

"The right," Bree answers, taking out her own luggage.

She knows it's silly but she feels uncomfortable unpacking her bras and panties in front of Lynette even though they've been friends for years. It occurs to her that if she can barely handle something as innocent as Lynette seeing her underwear then sharing a bedroom with her might prove impossible. Thankfully, Bree's saved from any further thought on the subject when Penny comes through the bedroom door and Lynette begins helping the girl unpack.

~

Any concerns Bree had about sharing a personal bubble with Lynette have completed disappeared now that they're halfway through the trip.

Their respective families have spent days tobogganing, skiing, and ice-skating. At one point there was an all out war between the children that involves chucking snowballs back and forth between snow-forts with admittedly impressive architecture. Andrew, Preston, and Penny have allied together, while Danielle, Porter, and Parker have joined forces. Tom is playing "ceasefire," keeping an eye out for any maligned shots that could lead to a very real disaster of upset children.

"Very good, Benjamin!" Bree praises as Lynette carefully lifts her grandson from the mutant looking snow-angel print. She thinks it's impressive for a one year old, in any case.

She places a soft kiss on his cold, rosy cheek, and feels herself heart warm.

"I think the kids are ready for a break," Tom informs both women with Penny clinging like a koala to his front, clearly exhausted. "Might be good to head back for a bit."

Upon return to the condo, Tom lays Penny down for a nap on the couch in the living room, then puts the boys down for a few hours rest in the guest bed. Struck with a sudden bout of exhaustion herself, Bree doesn't pay much mind to the fact that Penny is sleeping in another room, and opts for a shower. The hot water is a welcome change from the chilling temperature outside but by the time she's wiping steam from the bathroom mirror, she can feel the cold coming back, though much less severe in the heated resort.

She brushes and dries her hair then exits the en-suite, no longer feeling nervous about sharing a bed with Lynette, and climbs under the covers with her.

"You're freezing," Lynette groans into her pillow.

Bree's eyebrows scrunch together and lips turn down. "I most certainly am not."

Rolling over to face Bree, Lynette rests her open palm against Bree's abdomen. Through the material of her nightie, Bree can feel Lynette's heat permeate through her own body. Bree doesn't even have a chance to let the discomfort of realizing she thinks Lynette feels incredible to register before Lynette wraps her whole arm around her.

"I'm like a furnace," Lynette explains and despite the welcome warmth of her breath on Bree's ear, Bree feels a shiver run right down her spine nonetheless.

There's very little Bree can do in this situation that won't make things needlessly uncomfortable. She's frightened that if she does say anything then she'll just be giving herself away, revealing to Lynette that being held in her arms is a much bigger deal to her than it appears to be for Lynette. It also might be difficult to say that her fevered skin is all the product of Lynette's own natural body heat. Pragmatic to a fault, Bree comes to the conclusion that her only viable option is to sleep with her back to Lynette's front, held firmly in her embrace.

 

* * *

 

**2010**

On Christmas morning, Bree watches Andrew unwrap a gift that Danielle had wrapped herself, not even wanting Bree to see the contents of what appeared to be a box one would buy a sweater in.

"Seriously?" Andrew exclaims, laughing as he holds up his gift. "A little on the nose, isn't it?"

Danielle looks suitably pleased with herself, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Benjamin balanced in her lap.

"Well let's see," Bree requests and Andrew looks hesitant for a hot second before he turns the sweater to face her.

Bree's face heats up instantly.

_"Danielle!"_

"Come  _on,_ " Danielle intones. "It's funny, mom."

"Imagine showing up to a club in this," Andrew jokes, starting a back and forth between him and Danielle about where and when Andrew could show it off.

A red v-neck cable knit sweater boasts bold white wording on the front:  _GAY APPAREL_

"It's hardly appropriate," Bree chides, sipping her coffee. Meanwhile, Andrew is already tugging it on.

"It fits."

"Good because it was the last in that size," Danielle comments as she reaches for her phone, saying she wants to take a picture.

~

Lee thinks the sweater is tacky and hilarious, and thus loves it in all its awful glory. Bob rolls his eyes but still compliments the quality, which is admittedly high-grade.

Over the course of Bob and Lee's New Year's Eve extravaganza, Andrew actually receives many compliments, including from Julie and Dylan, who ask Danielle where she bought it. The evening escalates as the clock clicks closer and closer to midnight, until everyone has come together in the living room to watch the ball drop on the big screen.

Lynette is on speakerphone with her children, who are celebrating with Tom and his girlfriend at his place.

Through the throngs of people crowding Bob and Lee's living room, Bree is able to make out her son being flanked by Dylan and Julie. When the clock strikes midnight and all the noisemakers sound off and all Bree can hear is _"_ _HAPPY NEW YEAR"_ at full volume, she sees the girls lean over to plant a kiss on Andrew's cheeks. When Lynette hangs up with her children, Bree does the same.

"Happy New Year to you too," Lynette mutters, gazing up and down at Bree.

She doesn't kiss Bree's cheek but she does drop her hand to the small of Bree's back and Bree knows it's not the rum and coke. 

 

* * *

 

**2011**

Against all rhyme and reason, Bree accepts her parents' invitation to visit them over the Christmas holiday.

It probably isn't a wise decision, considering that Danielle has taken Benjamin away and this is the first time she'll be seeing her grandson in months. Her parents are aware that he's living with Danielle now but by some kind of miracle the fallout hasn't yet made it on to either her father's or Eleanor's radar. Danielle doesn't seem particularly keen to tell them, but she's always been a wild card. The usual disinterest Danielle displays toward most family matters tends to turn off only for things that flare up a mood in her. So long as Bree can keep Danielle from making a scene then she'll make it through the season in one piece.

She and Andrew are at peace, thankfully, due to the catering business. Her parents are pleased enough to have them both over, despite their previous apprehension to have their gay grandson hanging around. They're very careful about not bringing anything about orientation, despite asking Danielle about the young man that she's been seeing. There's even a civil moment between Bree and her daughter when Benjamin trips going up the stairs and Bree's the only one who can get him to settle back down.

"Thanks mom," Danielle breathes as she takes the now sated Benjamin out of his grandmother's arms. Bree takes to heart the genuine gratitude in Danielle's words, few as they may be, and is glad that she's still capable of making things better for her children, if only momentarily.

On Christmas Eve, after everyone is asleep, Bree tip-toes out to the living room and lies down beneath the Christmas tree.

She's staring at the light poking through branches, a bokeh effect blurring the strands of clear lights.

"Mom?" Danielle whispers, mostly confused, only a little defensive. Bree turns to face the direction of where she heard her daughter's voice, and sees Danielle's feet and ankles.

"Hi honey."

"What are you doing?"

"Admiring the Christmas tree," Bree sighs, cheek resting against the carpet. "It's prettiest from this angle."

Her answer appears to be cause for concern because Danielle is lowering herself to floor, kneeling in front of Bree and the tree.

"Are you, like,  _okay?_ "

"Oh I'm fine," she assures. She wiggles to the side to give Danielle space but is surprised when Danielle moves from her knees to her back.

They lay in silence for a minute, both women focusing on the plastic bobbles and the glass ornaments, until their breathing is even.

"Your grandfather used to find me like this all the time," Bree confesses, watching a glass rocking horse ornament twirl above her. "He thought I was waiting for Santa Clause."

Danielle's lying close enough for Bree's arm to brush hers but Bree acknowledges the slight distant between them, trying not to push her luck with this reprieve from the usual drama.

"Weren't you?"

"I used to wait for your grandmother; I thought she'd come to me, maybe in a dream. After a while I just thought the decorations were pretty. It's good to see the beauty in the world, even if it's something simple."

Danielle is quiet but a look from the corner of her eye tells Bree that she isn't sleeping. For a second, she sees both the girl she's always known and a complete stranger.

"Merry Christmas, mom."

"Merry Christmas, Danielle."

 

* * *

 

**2012**

Lynette gives Julie a warm hug at her father's service, and the young woman's force nearly bowls her right over.

"It's awful," there are tears on Lynette's collar. "It's not fair."

"No, sweetheart," Lynette agrees in a trembling tone of her own. "It really isn't."

In comparison, Susan barely utters anything other than "thank you," "it was a terrible loss," and "he will be missed."

Lynette can't begin to imagine the conflict Susan must be going through. Karl was her first husband and the father of her daughter, and most recently was seeing one of her best friends. Their relationship, to say the least, is complicated. She knows that if anything happened to Tom that she'd be beside herself with grief, especially if she had her children and her friend to think about.

She approaches the pew that Bree is sitting in, alone.

"Hey."

Bree looks up, though she remains lost in thought. "Hi Lynette. How are you?"

"I should be the one asking that," Lynette points out, sitting down beside her. "How are you holding up?"

"I feel guilty."

The decree is said without sadness or doubt, which Lynette hadn't realized she would have found more comforting until after the fact. Bree's quiet conviction breaks her heart.

"Isn't wasn't your fault, Bree. It was a horrible, horrible accident."

"Not for that."

"Because you were seeing one another? Susan understands that, she's not upset with you."

"Not that either."

"Is it Orson?"

"I feel awfully about what's happened to him too," Bree admits, not answering Lynette's concern, running Lynette out of ideas as to what Bree has to feel guilty about.

"Then why?"

"Susan and Julie just lost a member of their family, and it's so hard to be around them because it's too painful."

Lynette's brings her hand to Bree's knee, squeezing gently. "You're not a bad person because you miss him."

Bree thinks of the way Karl made her feel: excited, appealing, rebellious. She wasn't a new person with him but he reached a piece of her she'd never seen before, and in his absence she was left to wonder if he found that piece of her or if he was the one who made it. They had gone shopping for linens because she refused to sleep with him on hotel sheets and she never thought he had the character of a man she wanted to spend her life with, nothing in her had changed, but a fear lingers with her now. When Karl died, did he take that piece of her with him?

"I committed adultery and caused a death, Lynette. I would say as far as being a bad person is concerned, a picture of me could be found in the most recent edition of Webster's."

Lynette's grip tightens on Bree's hands, her thumbs rubbing her friend's.

"You're not a bad person," she decrees. When Bree shakes her head, accepting this consolation, Lynette rises from her seat with Bree's hand in hers. "Can I take you home?"

 

* * *

 

**2013**

The flannel blanket is larger enough to drape over both of them and hang over their sides, but with each passing minute Bree and Lynette find themselves inching closer to one another. It probably doesn't make much sense to take a horse drawn carriage without the addition of a classic snowfall, but the horses are majestic all the same, and the whole park is lit up with multi-coloured Christmas lights in festive displays.

It's sufficiently cold by Fairview standards, which is the excuse they're both going with if their proximity is ever called into question.

Lynette's decision to rest her head on Bree's shoulder, however, is probably going to be harder to explain away.

"It's beautiful tonight," Lynette comments because she's out of her mind with nerves and being this close to Bree is dangerous territory.

"Yes it is," Bree agrees, although she doesn't nod. Lynette hopes it's because Bree doesn't want to break their tenuous connection but that seems a little optimistic.

Busy trying not to read too deeply into anything, Lynette is completely blindsided when the horses startle and the carriage rattles as a result. Bree's arm comes around her instantly, followed by a sharp, shocked _"Lynette!"_  

"Sorry about that," the driver calls without taking his attention off the horses, who continue on without protest.

It occurs to Lynette that she still has her arms around Bree's midsection and Bree's hands are splayed across her shoulders.

"Hey Bree," her voice is less confident then she'd like but Lynette presses forward because she's never been one to hold herself back when she really wants something.

"Mm?" Bree encourages and something in her expression emboldens Lynette.

She turns to face Bree directly, brushing their cheeks for a split-second. Bree's gaze drops to Lynette's lips, her own lips parting when she realizes.

The first touch is so soft that Lynette barely registers it over her own excitement but then their lips come together again, and it's nothing like Lynette imagined. It's more magnetic, unable to draw away for fear she may break apart completely if she does. Bree's mouth is soft and warm and, above all, inviting. She feels her tongue lick into the other woman's mouth, feeling any residual anxiety being replaced with an intoxicating desire for  _more._ They stay like this for a short millennium, a gradation of depth and intensity, careful not to toe the obscene, but certainly heavier than Lynette would think Bree Van de Kamp capable of in public, especially in the vicinity of another person. As the carriage slows down, so does their kiss, leaving both women warm and red in the cheeks.

 

* * *

 

**2014**

There are two dozen sugar cookies, two dozen shortbread cookies, and two dozen gingerbread people currently occupying Bree's test kitchen.

Every flat surface is covered in cookies, icing, and sprinkles, and sectioned off into quadrants. It looks like Santa's Christmas Village taken to obscene heights, but the kids are having a ball. For a second Christmas together, the Scavos and Van de Kamps have gathered together, although staying much closer to home this time around. Among the nine of them, everyone has their own batch of cookies to decorate, and they've been at it for over an hour now. Bree exercises her regular degree of meticulousness and her cookies look cookbook photo-spread ready. Lynette, unsurprisingly, throws herself headfirst into a competition with only herself, and churns out equally impressive cookies.

The twins use frosting as eye black while Andrew and Danielle squabble over who's using too many of any given type of sprinkle. Meanwhile, Penny and Parker help Benjamin pipe a Santa suit on to a couple of his gingerbread cookies.

"I never know which part to eat first," Lynette muses, holding up an adorable little elf decorated gingerbread cookie. "The head seems unnatural, you know? But is it cold-blooded to make the little guy watch as you dismember him?"

Bree's mouth pinches - a force of habit - and she rolls her eyes.

"You're ridiculous," she informs her girlfriend, as though Lynette had forgotten since ten minutes ago, when Bree expressed the same sentiment about Lynette's comment that it should be sacrilege to cut cookies in nativity scene shapes because they're going to be eaten later anyway.

Lynette shrugs then plants a chaste but deliberate kiss on Bree's lips. "And yet you still love me."

Once Lynette pulls away, Bree licks her lips and tastes ginger and sugar. She watches Lynette snap the poor little cookie's head off his body.

"It was weird with him watching," Lynette explains, cutting off Bree's response with another kiss.

~

"Danielle, what's a lesbian?"

A pin could drop in the middle of Bree's living room and every one of her guests would hear it.

Danielle lowers herself to the floor so that she's at eye-line with her son, and offers an answer she hopes he'll accept before things get awkward.

"Why do you ask, baby?"

Benjamin nods toward Katherine and Robin, who are sitting on Bree's couch. Robyn is tucked into Katherine, holding her hand still now that the room was fallen silent. Moments before she had been twisting the rings on Katherine's fingers mindlessly, while chatting with Karen McCluskey about her short-lived modelling career.

"MJ says they're lesbians."

The picture of caught out, MJ avoids Susan's pointed look in favour of a random spot on the carpet.

"A lesbian is a girl who likes other girls," Danielle starts, feeling the tension beginning to lift from the room, though she feared her mother's critical eye was tracking her. "They hug and kiss other girls, like Leo and I used to hug and kiss. It's like how Uncle Andrew and Uncle Alex love each other."

He considers this, his brow wrinkling in thought, "Isn't that what gay means?"

"Gay is another word for it," Danielle confirms. "But lesbian is a word for only girls, not boys."

"Like grandma and Ms. Scavo?"

Bree had only heard about Katherine and Robyn's little coming out debacle second-hand, after the fact. She wasn't there to witness the disaster that was Katherine loudly proclaiming that she was not, in fact, a lesbian just because she happened to like having sex with a woman. Despite her absence at the incident, Bree feels that this is  _much, much_ worse.

Distantly, Bree hears the oven dings.

"The pie is finished," she announces to the room of astounded party guests.

~

"I'm so sorry, mom." Danielle iterates for what must be the sixth time in the last hour. "He really didn't mean to."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Bree promises as she clears another table of discarded paper plates and napkins. "He's only seven."

They dump their respective collections into one large garbage bag that Bree neatly ties up. Danielle grabs another full bag and does the same, following her mother as they head outside to discard everything in the bins.

"Besides, now there's no more tip-toeing. Lynette and I have been meaning to make things public but we weren't sure how. This may not have been how I imagined it happening but I have to admit it certainly was effective."

Danielle looks up from the garbage bin she's put the lid back on when she asks, "You love her, right?"

It's clear Bree hadn't been expecting such a response. She's a bit stunned but mostly confused, her eyes searching Danielle's for some kind of clue as to what would prompt that question in her daughter.

"Very much."

"Good," Danielle replies, pecking Bree on the cheek as she passes her on her way back into the house.

~

The fireplace crackles lively, setting a rather romantic scene for the evening as they curl up under an afghan.

Taking full of advantage of this, Lynette slips her hands up Bree's sweater.

"Lynette," Bree giggles. "We should take this upstairs."

"My kids are with Tom, yours have Ben and are at Susan's until 10. We're all alone for at least another couple hours."

She accompanies her points with kisses, then discards of Bree's bra.

Presented with such a reasonable and well put together argument, Bree's only response is to catch Lynette up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you have a wonderful day :)


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